Listen Up, Fat Man
by gidgetgirl
Summary: Exactly one year after asking Santa for a little brother, Xander and Anya's daughter tries to get Santa to take her baby brother back. Baby Snoopy Dancing and Hijinks ensue. A Mommy's Little Capitalist story. COMPLETE!


DISCLAIMER: I own Jenny.  Joss owns all else.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Another Mommy's Little Capitalist ficlet for you all.  I'm not really sure if I'm up to writing SOUL MATES, DATES, AND EDIBLE UNDERWEAR, so I figured that maybe a few ficlets might suffice until inspiration for the longer fic hits.

Anyway, yes, I'm writing these terribly out of their temporal order.  This takes place a year after DEAR BEARDED MAN.  I'll be filling in the blanks shortly, with pregnant Anya fics on the holidays in between the two Christmases, but I didn't want to wait all that time to post this one.

SUMMARY: A year after she asked Santa for a little brother, Jenny Harris tries to convince Santa to take him back.

LISTEN UP, FAT GUY

            Five year old Jenny Harris, usually cheerful, was not a happy camper.  She'd thought having a little brother was going to be kinda like having a dog, only with more presents and less fur.  It wasn't.  Having a little brother was not fun at all.  

            Jesse gurgled in his baby chair, and Jenny smiled at him despite herself.  He was making baby noises.  Jesse was a very happy baby.

            "It's nothing personal, tiny human," Jenny explained to her brother.  "It's just that last year I asked Santa for you, and now Mommy and Daddy don't have time to play capitalism with me, and you ate my dime, and Daddy says it will come out the other end."  Jenny wrinkled her nose.  "I don't want that to happen to my dime."  The five year old was absolutely positive that _that_ was not sound capitalism.

            "So," Jenny concluded.  "It's not that you're not a nice small pink person, Money Eater."  Jenny sighed a very bereaved sigh.  "It's just that, well…"  Jenny tried to think of a way to put it into words, and as she did, Xander walked into the room.

            "Heya Jen-Ben," he said, kissing the top of her head.  "Watcha doin?"

            "Writing a letter," Jenny said, feeling a little guilty.  Daddy and Mommy probably wouldn't like it very much if Santa came and took Jesse back.

            Jesse gurgled again.  "And how's Daddy's little goofball?" Xander asked, leaning over to tickle Jesse's stomach.  Jesse laughed little baby laughter and waved his fist around.

            "I tell you," Xander said to the room as a whole, every inch the proud daddy, "the kid is a comic genius."

            Jesse wriggled in his baby chair, and Xander's mouth dropped open.  "He's doing the Snoopy Dance," Xander said.  "Look at that, Jen, Jesse is doing a little baby Snoopy Dance."  Xander started dancing along with the baby's little hand movements.  

            "That's it, little man," Xander said.  "Get your Snoopy Dance on."  Xander sighed happily.  That kind of technique just couldn't be taught.

            Jenny frowned.  Now she wasn't even Jen-Ben anymore, and it was all Jesse's fault.  

            As soon as Daddy left the room to go get Mommy, Jenny set about the task of writing her letter to Santa.  If she'd gotten a little brother by asking Santa for one, then surely Santa could take him back.  Jenny was pretty sure Jesse would like the North Pole.  He could eat the elves' quarters and dance for Mrs. Claus and be _their_ little goofball.  Mommy and Daddy would only miss him a little.

            _Dear Bearded Man_, Jenny wrote.  She'd gotten very good at writing in the past year.  In fact, she could write better than a lot of second graders.  Her teacher said so.

            "He's dancing?" Jenny heard Anya shriek from the other room.  "Our tiny pink human is dancing, and I'm missing it?"

            Jenny gritted her teeth.  No one was talking about her special dance, The Dance of Capitalistic Integrity.  Jesse wasn't even really doing the Snoopy Dance.  He was just waving his arms around.  He was probably thinking about eating some more money.

            Stupid baby.  

            Jenny looked down at her paper and scratched out what she'd written.  Dear Bearded Man was a little bit too nice.  After all, this was all Santa's fault.

            _Listen up, Fat Guy_, Jenny wrote. 

            She thought about what she wanted to write and whispered it under her breath, doodling dollar signs on the page as she thought out loud.  "Remember me?" she asked, thinking that maybe that was the way she was going to start her letter.  "I'm Jenny Harris.  Last year, I asked you for a little brother for Christmas, and since I was so good, you gave my mommy whip cream and she and my daddy made the orgasm and there was sperm, and now I have a little brother."

            Jesse gurgled and Jenny tried not to look at him.  It wasn't really his fault Mommy and Daddy didn't pay any attention to her anymore.

            "Anyway," Jenny said out loud, still practicing, "I want you to take him back.  You got me into this mess, Jolly Man.  You can get me out of it."

            "What's that, baby?" Anya asked, coming into the room.

            Jenny looked guiltily up from her letter.  Luckily, she hadn't written any of it yet, except for the Listen Up part.  She wasn't sure if she could write all of that, even if she was a good writer.  That would be awful hard, and she couldn't exactly have Mommy write it for her.

            Jesse shook his hand again, and Anya shrieked.  "He's saluting the flag!" she said.  "Mommy's little American."

            Daddy's little goofball.  Mommy's little American.  Jenny's bottom lip trembled.  Didn't anyone remember her anymore?

            Anya saw the look on the little girl's face, and she bent down to her level.  "What's wrong, Little Capitalist?" she asked.  

            Jenny ceremoniously burst into tears.  "I'm not your little capitalist anymore," she burst out.  "I'm not your baby anymore, cause you've got Jesse now.  I'm not anything."

            "Jenny," Anya said softly.

            Jenny shook her head, the sobs still coming.  "I wish a big bunny would just come and eat me right up!" she said.  "Cause I'm not anything any more."

            Anya looked around, horrified.

            "What's the rule about wishing?" Xander asked, coming into the room.

            Jenny crossed her arms over her chest.  "It may as well eat me," she sniffed, her voice wobbling.  "It may as well just hip hop in here and have floppy ears and eat me right up because…because…"  Jenny couldn't speak anymore, and she just sat down on the ground.

            At that exact moment, Jesse burst into tears.

            Anya lifted Jesse out of his carrier and gently and with a tenderness Xander hadn't even known she had, bent down to place him in Jenny's arms.  Together, the two children cried for a moment, and then Jesse turned his head, looked at Jenny, and gurgled.

            "You're his sister, little human-shaped miracle," she said.  

            Xander bent down, too.  "See?" he said.  "You make him happy, Jen-Ben, and when you're sad, Jesse is sad, too."

            "Because he's my brother," Jenny said, tears still in her voice.  

            Xander leaned forward to kiss her.  She looked so fragile sitting there, her face tear streaked and the baby almost too big for her tiny arms.

            "And you're my little girl," he said.  "And very, very special."  He paused.  "You're my Jen-Ben.  The only one in the whole entire world, and nothing could ever, ever change that."

            "Not even if he does the Snoopy Dance better than me?" Jenny asked.

            "Not even then," Xander answered.

            "And you'll always be my little capitalist," Anya said, "and my tiny miracle, and my little baby girl."

            "I'm a good capitalist, huh?" Jenny asked, slowly getting over her tears.

            Anya nodded.

            Jenny thought of something, and the idea lit up her face.  "He ate my dime," she said slowly.  "You said he would poop it out."  Jenny paused.  "What if he poops out two dimes?" she said, liking the possibility.  "Then there'd be a profit."

            Xander looked at Anya out of the side of his eyes.  Crisis averted.  "I think that could be arranged," he muttered.

            Jenny smiled.  Her little brother could Snoopy Dance and salute the flag and know when she was sad, and when he ate one quarter, he pooped out two!  All of a sudden, things were looking a whole lot brighter.

            Anya took the baby from Jenny's hands, and she stood up and did her dance of capitalistic integrity.

            "When you get older, Little Brother," she said.  "I will teach you how to do my dance.  It's like the Scooby Dance, only more like money."

            "Do I sense some family Snoopy Dance-age coming on?" Xander asked.

            Xander picked up Jenny, Anya held Jesse, and together, the four of them danced.

            "So what'd you ask Santa for?" Xander asked Jenny a few minutes later.  He looked down and read the letter.  "Listen up, Fat Man," he read.  He looked at Jenny.  "Sounds serious," he said.

            Jenny thought on her feet.  "Last year I asked for whip cream," she said.  "For Mommy, and British stuff for Mr. Tweed Guy."  In the past year, Giles's status had been upgraded from Mr. Tweed Man to Mr. Tweed Guy.  "I think this year, I'll ask Santa to bring Mr. Tweed Guy some glasses."  Jenny improvised.  "And I'll ask him to bring Mommy some honey."

            "Honey?" Anya asked, liking the idea.  Jenny was a genius.  Many interesting things could be done with honey.

            "But," Jenny said seriously.  "No more babies.  Not even with honey orgasms.  Two is enough, so no more babies."  She paused and tilted her head to the side, thinking.  "Unless they poop out dollars."

OKAY, two Jenny stories in one night.  Don't you guys feel special?  This one took a long time to write, and I have to get up in like four hours, so please, please, please, review and let me know what you think, and also, if you read or are going to read the other Jenny fic, please review it as well, and I promise to write more soon.  But if the response keeps dwindling (as in the number of readers decreasing greatly from The Perfect Costume to Why I Don't Wear Underwear), I may retire Jenny, at least for a while.

PLEASE REVIEW!     


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